M.J. Rodgers - Baby Vs. The Bar

She locked eyes with him for a moment. She had completely emerged from that quiet center, and Marc could feel the considerable will of the woman behind that cinnamon stare. Those initial interesting twitches that had begun inside him began to multiply by leaps and bounds.

And then, in the next instant, she leaned back in the chair and retreated again to that quiet inner center.

“I don’t care how much money is involved,” her liquid, languid voice said. “I want none of it.”

“Are you willing to go on record that you would refuse such a financial windfall, even if your child were David Demerchant’s?”

“I just did.”

And so she had. Which brought up some interesting new possibilities. Marc pushed on. “If your child does turn out to be David Demerchant’s, do you intend to grant Louie Demerchant visiting rights to his great-grandchild?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“ If my son just happens to have Demerchant genes, those genes came to him purely by accident. It was neither David Demerchant’s intent nor was it mine to have a child together. We never even met. If he were still alive, even he would have no claim to my son, much less his grandfather.”

“You will not even let Louie Demerchant see this boy who could be his great-grandchild?”

“That’s right. I will not.”

“Your attitude seems rather extreme, does it not?”

“I do not believe it is. I paid for anonymous sperm. My contract with Bio-Sperm affords me exclusive rights to that sperm and any offspring produced from it.”

“How are you going to explain away these actions to your son when he is old enough to understand?”

“I won’t have to explain away anything. There is no real proof that my son carries Demerchant genes, and since David Demerchant is dead, obtaining such proof now is impossible.”

“So your son will never even know he might be a Demerchant?”

“He is not a Demerchant. He is a Westbrook.”

“You will not meet with Louie Demerchant to discuss this?”

“No, I will not.”

Marc smiled. Yes, the lady might just be telling the truth, after all. Binick and his attorney would have to be out of their minds to have encouraged her to make up this story.

Because, for the purposes of this suit against Bio-Sperm, her testimony wasn’t damaging at all to Marc’s case. On the contrary. He was delighted with it. Remy Westbrook was a keg of dynamite that he would soon be detonating right in Binick’s face.

Marc could already hear his closing arguments.

“Gentlemen of the jury. Even if Remy Westbrook had David’s child, Louie Demerchant will never know for certain, will he? What agony he will be forced to go through because of this uncertainty! And even if Louie Demerchant wants to believe he has this great-grandchild, the only hope of his line, he will never be permitted to see this child. Nor will this child ever carry the Demerchant name. He will not even be allowed to know who his father’s family was. What could be worse torture for a loving great-grandfather? And all because of yet another mistake that Bio-Sperm has made!”

As the rehearsal for his final statement to the jury whirled through his mind, Marc decided that if he had known of the existence of Remy Westbrook and her child, he would have talked Demerchant into asking for fifteen million instead of ten.

“Thank you, Dr. Westbrook,” he said aloud to his witness. “That’s all I have.”

“Do you wish to cross, Mr. Sato?” the judge asked.

Binick’s attorney nodded, rose and approached Remy. “Dr. Westbrook, I know you’ve had less than a week to learn of and digest these startling revelations, on top of which you have been subpoenaed and have been forced to reveal very personal parts of your life to this court. I can understand how upset you must feel.”

“Can you?” she asked in that languid voice, while even from the plaintiff’s table Marc could see the golden flame flickering again in the center of her eyes.

“Yes, and I truly regret the necessity,” Sato continued. “However, we are only interested in getting at the truth here. And as upsetting as this intrusion into your private life must be, I cannot believe that you would deny your son’s right to even know about his father and his father’s family.”

Marc rose to his feet. “I object. Counsel is making argumentative speeches, not asking questions.”

“Sustained,” the judge ruled.

“Dr. Westbrook,” Sato began again. “Do you love your son?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want the best for him?”

“Yes.”

“Then how can you even think of withholding the circumstances of his birth from him?”

“He’ll be told the truth, Mr. Sato. His genetics come from me and from an anonymous sperm donor.”

“But you know David Demerchant was his father. Bio-Sperm’s records clearly show—”

“I know nothing of the sort,” Remy interrupted. “And I don’t care what Bio-Sperm’s records show. With all the mistakes it has made in this matter, who knows who the sperm donor was?”

“Bio-Sperm knows, Dr. Westbrook. Your record clearly shows David Demerchant’s code and no code is ever reused even if—”

“Your Honor, I object,” Marc interrupted. “Defense attorney is making argumentative speeches again.”

“Sustained. Watch it, Mr. Sato.”

“My apologies,” Sato said, creasing his short, compact body with a small bow toward the bench. He returned his attention to the witness box. “Dr. Westbrook, how will you answer your son’s understandable curiosity about his father?”

“While he is very young, Counselor, I will teach him that it isn’t who his father is, but who he is that will give meaning to his life.”

“But aren’t you concerned that his sense of identity will suffer from not knowing his roots?”

“Roots? Haven’t we gone past that foolishness? We are not our parents, Counselor. Emotionally stigmatizing a child with the blame or fame of his ancestors only retards his real self from emerging.”

“And how do you intend to let your son’s real self emerge?”

“By teaching him that his sense of identity will come from his beliefs, his skills, his actions—no one else’s. The responsibility for who he becomes will be totally up to him. The only thing I or any parent can and should supply to a child is a nurturing environment filled with opportunities for growth and love.”

“Assuming all that to be true, Dr. Westbrook, what harm could come from your son learning of and becoming a part of the Demerchants’ nurturing environment filled with family love?”

“How do I know that the Demerchants are a loving family? Or that they share my ideas about how a child should be nurtured?”

“How do you know they’re not and do not?” Sato countered.

“I don’t intend to take chances with my son, Mr. Sato. I want him brought up right. I’m the only one who can ensure that will happen. These people have no role or business in his life.”

Sato smiled patiently at his contrary witness. “In time, Dr. Westbrook, I think you will change your mind. In time, when the shock you have been forced to endure wears off, I think you will want to share the love and joy you have in your heart for your son with his father’s side of the family.”

“Your Honor, I object,” Marc said. “Once again defense counsel is making speeches.”

“Sustained,” the judge said. “Gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Sato’s thoughts are not evidence. You will disregard them. Mr. Sato, you may continue only if you have a legitimate question for Dr. Westbrook.”

“I am finished with this witness,” Mr. Sato said politely, and sat down.

“Mr. Truesdale, do you have anything on redirect?”